


With Fireworks

by donutwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Worship, Chubby Derek, Feeding Kink, Future Fic, Implied Feedism, M/M, Mentions of Derek/Braeden - Freeform, Post Season 4, Sexual Content, Stuffing, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6932632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutwolf/pseuds/donutwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was meant to be just a casual visit to exchange information ends up becoming a feast of beer, barbecue and belly rubs. It's 4th of July, and Chris is in for one hell of a meal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is basically my love letter to Chris/Derek, with bonus feedism thrown in because that's how I roll. I'm going to post this in parts. Comments are appreciated.

Chris parked his car a few blocks away from Derek's place. It was more out of habit than precaution; the past few months had been quiet and there was no reason to suspect an ambush. This was just a friendly visit to exchange information--just because the head of the Calaveras had put him up to it, didn't mean he had bad intentions in mind.

He glanced at his watch as he headed down the street; it was getting near dinner time and he was starving. All the more reason to make this a quick visit. 

He rang the buzzer and waited, glancing around before looking into the camera. He frowned after nothing happened, checking his watch again, but just then the door opened.  
  
"Chris?" Derek clearly hadn't been expecting company. He looked slightly flustered; his hair was mussed up like he hadn't combed it since waking up and he was wearing just a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. It was the most casual Chris had ever seen him, and it only made him feel more like an intruder.  
  
"Hi," he said, pulling on a smile. "Can I come in?"  
  
Derek recovered from the surprise, but something else was holding him back. He held on to the door, face considering. "Yeah, sure," he finally said, stepping to the side to let Chris in.  
  
He muttered a thanks as he walked past Derek and into the neatly decorated house. A warm mix of blues, oranges and golds greeted him in the foyer, leading into an equally colorful living room. It looked almost too cozy to be Derek's--but then again, he had probably had help in decorating the place.  
  
"Where's Braeden?" he asked, running a hand over the soft looking arm chair.  
  
"She's... out.”

“On a mission?"  
  
Chris glanced at Derek; the look on his face confirmed what his voice had already betrayed.  
  
"She didn't take you with her?"  
  
Derek's jaw tightened, but his expression looked more hurt than angry when he turned to meet Chris's eyes. "No."  
  
Chris gave in first and looked away--he wasn't here to dig into Derek’s personal business.  
  
"Do you want a beer?" Derek was already walking towards the kitchen door, not looking if Chris decided to follow; he seemed intent on changing the subject.  
  
Chris waited a beat before going after him.  
  
Derek was leaning into the fridge when Chris reached the kitchen; the cozy atmosphere continued here, with the open shelves full of clean white dishes and spice jars. A scent wafting through the air made Chris’s mouth water, though he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

Derek shut the door and offered him a bottle. When Chris grabbed it, he looked oddly pleased. He leaned back and twisted off the cap from his beer. "I was just about to start the grill." He paused to drink, taking down a good half of the beer in one go before fixing Chris with a look. "You hungry?"

Chris took a gulp from his beer. Despite the frosty welcome, Derek now seemed like he wanted Chris to stay? He had come here expecting a quick, probably awkward chat about the latest hunter gossip. This felt weird.  
  
Still, he was actually hungry. They could talk over dinner.  
  
"Yeah, I could eat," he said.  
  
"Good."  
  
There it was again, the pleased look that grazed Derek's features when Chris accepted his offer. He looked--soft. His beard was longer, scruffier but still trimmed, just like he'd expect from Derek. But underneath the scruff and his loose clothes, Chris realized Derek had gotten softer.  
  
He tried to shake off the thought because what did that matter, people gained and lost weight all the time--but at the same time, he felt like when it came to Derek, it did matter. Chris couldn't turn off the instinct that told him something had changed with Derek.  
  
Derek set his beer on the counter and went back to the fridge. He glanced at Chris as he pulled out a couple of packages and opened one. "Hope you like meat because that's what's for dinner." Derek flashed him a grin and lifted up a big piece of steak; he added it on a platter next to another one he'd already had warming up.

Chris did a double take when he realized the steaks weren't the only thing Derek was cooking. "That's a lot of meat for just two," he said, eyeing the thick looking patties Derek was currently moving to the plate. "I think I could do with just the steak--"

"Don't worry about it," Derek said. "You might change your mind when it's done, and if not--" He paused to refrigerate the rest of the meat. "--I'll just eat them myself." 

An image suddenly flourished in Chris's mind, of Derek and his mountain of burgers and steaks, ready to gobble them all up--Chris took a quick drink to wash the image away. He forced on a smile, lifting his beer in agreement. "Very well then."  
  
Derek gave him a curious look, but didn't ask. He washed his hands in the sink, then turned around with the towel in his hands. "You have no idea what today is, do you?"  
  
Chris blinked. "It's--" He checked his watch on reflex, though of course he knew the date.  
  
"Fourth of July," Derek finished for him. "So, burgers and beer, right?"  
  
"Right. Can't believe I didn't realize that." Chris let out an embarrassed chuckle, but Derek just smiled.  
  
"I'm going to get changed, you can wait in the living room."  
  
Chris nodded in acknowledgement. Right.  
  


 

He wandered back to the living room to wait for Derek. He had assumed Braeden and Derek had decorated the place together, but now he was starting to think the flat had come pre-furnished. Aside from a couple of books on the coffee table, there were no personal effects anywhere; no pictures, no nothing.  
  
But someone had chosen the house with the warm, homey feel to it. Someone had wanted to settle down, live a normal life.  
  
His thoughts wound back to Derek's bed hair and rounded cheeks, and the look on his face when Braeden’s name had been mentioned. He sipped his beer, trying to steer clear from the thoughts that followed--Derek's relationship troubles were none of his concern.  
  
"You need a refill for that?"

Chris startled, too lost in thought to hear Derek’s return. He had the answer on his lips as he turned around, but for a moment, his mind was too preoccupied with how Derek looked to get the words out. He had changed his pajamas into a pair of dark cargo shorts and a black tank top, and jesus, Chris was _not_ staring at the small but definite paunch on Derek’s middle, so clearly highlighted by his outfit.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He tipped his bottle to show it was empty, and this time when Derek headed for the kitchen, Chris trailed after him like he was being drawn on a leash.

He almost bumped into Derek at the door. “I’ll be right back,” he said and handed Chris another bottle before disappearing back to the living room. To do--what? Chris resisted the urge to follow him--he already felt like a lost puppy trying to navigate the strange land of Derek’s friendliness.

On second viewing, the charming little kitchen seemed as impersonal as the living room. There were no notes on the fridge door, not even the odd postcard or a picture to remind of happier times. If Chris had to wager a bet, he’d bet there would be no funny coffee mugs or gifted cookbooks hidden in the cupboards either. The only thing that suggested there was someone living here was, well, the food.

Which, now that he had time to look around, there seemed to be plenty of: the table in the middle had a big bowl of fruit with boxes of assorted cookies and snacks stacked around it. Candy, pastries, fresh, delicious looking bread--enough treats to feed a family of five. With a guilty flush, Chris wondered if the fridge would look the same, piled with delicacies and indulgent ingredients.

Suddenly, Derek's softness didn't seem so surprising anymore. But--why did the thought of Derek overeating, gorging himself on sweet and rich dishes give him such heat? It was bad enough that he seemed to have a thing for the way Derek was now--meaty and plump, just growing into his chubbiness--but just a glance at the spread of food Derek had prepared made his mind churn up images that lighted up the blood in his veins, making him yearn for something he'd almost forgotten.

Jesus. Chris closed his eyes for a second to focus, rubbing a hand over his face. He sighed and took a swig of beer, then set the bottle down on the table.

"I think I should--" he started when Derek came back.

"Don't say 'leave' because I just started the grill and you don't want to miss this meal."

Derek gave him a look that seemed to read right through him. He _knew_ \--he could probably _smell_ the lust rolling off him. Chris felt a spike of familiar anger at the werewolves's higher senses; he should have anticipated this.

But what use was a hunter's training when the werewolf in question wasn't trying to kill you or bite you, but to _flirt_ with you?

Chris licked his lips; he wished he had something stronger to drink than beer because what was about to happen might need a bit more courage than he had.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said, giving Derek his most charming smile. He could only hope it wasn’t as rusty as he felt--it had been a while since he had played this game. “I was actually thinking I should offer some help--as payment for the meal, of course.”

Derek’s eyes flashed with intrigue, but he wasn’t going to fold that easily. “Guests don’t pay for their meals in my house, Chris,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter.

“I’d consider myself to be more of an intruder than a guest.”

There was a look of consideration on Derek’s face, and as he considered, Chris stole a glance down his body; with Derek’s thick arms framing his chest, that little belly pushed out on top of his shorts almost defiantly, like it wanted all the attention drawn to itself. It wasn’t much--just a small, round dome with enough girth to make it stretch the fabric of Derek’s shirt--but Chris felt heated just from looking. He felt an _itch_ \--he wanted to touch it to feel if it was as soft as he expected.

"Okay," Derek said, his voice jerking Chris back to reality. "If you want to get your hands dirty so badly then be my guest." Derek relaxed, his eyes twinkling. "No pun intended."

Derek set him in charge of slicing the tomatoes while he rummaged the fridge to find things to put inside the burgers; Chris had caught a glimpse inside and--yes, he had been right. From what he could see, the abundance of food continued inside, with enough cheese and meats to make any food enthusiast salivate.

He cleared his throat. “So, anything new around these parts?”

“Is that why you came?”

Derek’s voice was warm and throaty with beer; he sounded amused.

Chris shrugged. “More or less.”

“Did she send you?”

“Ah, yeah. She thinks you’d be more... _forthcoming_ with me than her guys.”

Derek hummed, still scanning the fridge. Finally he pulled out a bowl of salad and closed the door. He gave Chris a contemplating look, then started shuffling the ingredients on the table to a big wooden tray.

“There’s a new pack settling in South, outside the city’s limits. I’m assuming the Calaveras are watching them already, right?”

“They are on their radar, yes.”

Derek nodded. “Thought so.”

“Have you met them?”

“I have.”

Chris waited a beat for Derek to continue, but there was only silence. For some reason, the topic had brought a sour note to Derek’s voice, and Chris felt a twinge of regret. He realized he much preferred the strange friendliness they’d had before; this conversation served only to put the distance back between them.

Chris exhaled--he needed his focus back. “And how did that go?” he heard himself ask, not lifting his gaze from the cutting board.

“They were friendly enough,” Derek said, but he sounded subdued, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “My reputation seems to precede me as they knew who I was-- _what_ I was--before I got there. They just--” His voice cut off and Chris glanced at him then, finding Derek standing by the counter with the loaded tray in his hands and a frown on his face.

“What?”

Derek’s lips curled into half a smile when he met Chris’s gaze. “They don’t like the way I smell. I guess hanging out with hunters and mercenaries rubs off on you.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Less than it used to,” Derek said with a shrug, switching his weight from one leg to the other. When Chris didn’t reply, he quickly changed the subject. “The grill should be ready. The backdoor is in the living room--you come out when you’re done.”

He watched Derek walk away, then set the knife down and sighed. Holding it had made him feel momentarily better, more focused--as long as he didn’t think too closely about the _why_ of it. This certainly was nothing like the usual circumstances where he’d held a knife next to Derek.

Chris cleared away the dishes he had made, wiped his hands on a towel and picked up the tomato slices; he stopped to finish his beer on the way out, still wishing it was a helluva lot stronger.


	2. Chapter 2

The backyard turned out to be just as charming as the rest of the house. High walls separated it from the neighbours and though there were no trees, dark leaved plants and flowers in big pots furnished the area around the grill, making it look like an inviting oasis.  

And Derek fit into that picture perfectly: he was busy loading all the meat inside the grill, looking focused on his task but Chris doubted he wasn't aware of his arrival. He still paused by the door to admire the view; he could rest his eyes on Derek's new curves for a time and a day and not get bored, but instead he had to settle for stealing glances like this. 

Two beers had him buzzing in just the right way and Chris felt his guard slipping down. He let himself appreciate the tightness of Derek's shorts on his round ass, a fresh flush of arousal spreading through him. God, he hoped they were on the same page here because otherwise he was making such a fool of himself. 

"Alright," Derek said, closing the lid of the grill; he gave Chris just enough warning to collect himself before he turned around. "Everything okay?"

The way Derek was grinning at him, Chris knew that at least  _ Derek  _ knew what chapter he was reading now. The smug son of a bitch. "Couldn't be better." Chris smiled right back at him as he sauntered towards the grill. He set the tomatoes down on a cooking table next to it, hovering in Derek's presence for a second before retreating; he walked to the other side of the small tiled area and took a seat in the luxurious swing that had been set there.

Derek checked his phone for the time, then took a seat on a garden chair--he chose the one closest to Chris, his eyes never leaving him. They sat in silence for a moment, both waiting for the other to make a move.

“I’m surprised you’re still working for the Calaveras, to be honest. I thought you’d retire after we got Kate.”

Chris took in a breath and pushed back against the soft cushioning. He willed himself to relax as he exhaled. “So did I,” he said simply.

“So why didn’t you?”

Because hunting was in his blood--that was the simple answer. He couldn’t watch from the sidelines when--not  _ if _ \--some new horror inevitably found its way into their lives. 

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Chris rubbed his palms down his thighs; he needed a new drink if the conversation kept this serious. “It’s not that bad, though. I’m more of a consult these days, they call me when there’s something big going on. So I guess that would make me a part timer?” 

Derek hummed, smiling, and took another swig of beer; if Chris felt buzzed, Derek looked well on his way to being pleasantly drunk. His face was soft, cheeks flushed under the scruff, his belly looking more bloated than before. Sitting down, his soft paunch rolled over the waist of his shorts and spread out into plump little love handles at his sides, making the contrast to the swollen curve at the top even more obvious. 

Jesus--and they hadn’t even eaten yet. Chris couldn’t even imagine how bloated Derek’s gut would be if he ate even half of what he’d prepared. 

“Part timer, huh,” Derek repeated. “So how do you pass your days then if not by hunting?” Derek got up while he was still talking and went back to the grill. He opened the lid and started to flip the meat in quick succession. Chris pulled in the succulent scent and sighed; the smell of food made his stomach suddenly give out a loud, demanding whine and Derek glanced at him, a smile still dancing on his lips. “Hold on just a few more minutes, these babies are almost done,” he said and closed the lid again.

Chris didn’t know how to reply, so he just smiled awkwardly and went back to the topic they had been discussing. “I have a weapons collection,” he blurted out.

“A weapons’ collection?” Derek sounded amused, but not surprised. 

“Yeah,” Chris said with a nod; he felt a bit on the defensive, but wasn’t sure why. “It’s mostly old rifles and shotguns from the 19th century. And crossbows, European make. You know, tools of the trade. I’m learning to restore them, though obviously I’m not collecting them for use.”

Derek raised his brow slightly, but his expression was warm, soft around the edges like his voice when he said, “Sounds like you found yourself a nice hobby there.” He seemed to mean it. He grabbed his drink and finished it, letting out a burp after he was done. “I’ll go grab us fresh beers and we should be good to go,” he said, motioning Chris to stay seated while he sauntered back to the house.

Chris spent the time waiting staring at the sky, convincing himself that the feeling in his gut was just hunger and nothing else.

 

 

Derek came back carrying two beers in one hand and a big pan full of mac ’n’ cheese in the other. He definitely looked excited as he set the pan on the table and went back to the grill. “Take a seat, I’ll bring the food to the table,” he said over his shoulder. 

Chris did as instructed and in no time at all, Derek had loaded the table with food. Between the salad bowl and the mac ‘n’ cheese now rested a plate with four impeccable looking burgers and another one with two big, mouthwatering steaks. Each burger looked bigger than Chris’s fist, with the thick patty adding almost an inch to its height; all of it smelled amazing. 

“You should start with the burgers,” Derek said as he took a seat against Chris, “the steak needs to rest a bit.”

Chris chuckled, giving Derek a glance over the well stacked table. “‘Start’, huh.” He had to wonder to what stomach Derek expected him to eat all of this--or to what stomach  _ Derek  _ intended to eat what he  _ couldn’t.  _ “Looks delicious, thank you,” he managed to say while grabbing one of the burgers and moving it to the plate in front of him.  

“Oh, wait till you take a bite, I swear you don’t even want to stop eating once you try one of these.” 

Derek watched him fill his plate before getting to work on his own. Unlike Chris, he didn’t seem at all worried about the size of the meal he had prepared for them. He brought two burgers on his plate from the get-go and piled one side high with the macaroni; he didn’t skimp on the salad either. There was an eagerness to his moves that made Chris suspect he had been waiting for this moment all day. 

When he was done, he caught Chris looking and gave him a bright smile. “Well? Dig in before it gets cold.” And with that, he started eating.

Chris let Derek have a head start, then picked up a pair of utensils and cut off a piece from the side of his burger. It looked tall enough that eating it with his hands would result in a generous mess--although Derek seemed to be handling his fine enough. He glanced up once more at the loud, food-muffled moan that came from Derek’s side of the table. “I take it it’s good?” he asked, smiling. 

Derek made another sound, finishing his bite before replying. “ _ Really  _ good, goddamn.” He grinned, then went in for another huge bite. It seemed like he was ready to demolish his first burger in a matter of seconds and Chris found himself staring again; he made himself focus on his plate, swallowing the lump from his throat.  

The first bite confirmed all of Derek’s hype to be true: the meat had been cooked to perfection, with just the right amount of char and juiciness on the patty. Chris gasped, just like Derek had, pointing at his burger before going back for more. “Wow, that’s one hell of a burger,” he said, cutting another piece and bringing it to his lips. “You made these yourself?”

“Yup,” Derek said, looking pleased. “Did you get to the cheese yet?”

“ _ Cheese? _ ”

Derek chuckled. “You’ll see.”

A few more bites and Chris found out what Derek had meant: the middle of the patty had been stuffed with cheese and something else, adding a whole new level to the taste. “Wow, that’s--” Chris let the flavors fill his senses, humming at the taste of pesto and onions that had been mixed into the cheese. “-- _ really  _ good, you are right about that.” 

“Told you,” Derek said. 

While Chris had been focused on his plate, Derek had made fast work through his own serving. The pile of macaroni had been seriously diminished and there were only a few bites left of his second burger, but he didn’t show any signs of stopping as he grabbed his drink and downed a good half of the beer. 

Chris glanced back to his own plate; his burger was mostly gone too, but he already felt _full_ \--he couldn’t even imagine how full Derek must be feeling. He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself with small talk.  

“So, what have you been up to? Aside from learning to make burgers, that is.”

Derek shifted on his seat. “This and that.” He paused, playing with the macaroni on his plate, like he was considering his answer. “Been looking at some courses at the university, maybe--I don’t know, I might try and enroll.”

Chris didn’t have to feign his surprise. “Oh? What department?”

“History,” Derek said. “I’ve been reading a lot, it’s... interesting.” For the first time, he seemed nervous in Chris’s presence--he kept avoiding his eyes, busying himself with hauling one of the steaks to his plate with a heap of salad on the side. 

Chris tried to imagine Derek as a student, poring over old history books; for some reason, the image made him smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Derek shrugged again. “We’ll see.” He paused to look at the food on his plate--maybe he  _ was  _ feeling full after all? 

Chris followed him as he slowly cut off a slice of meat, examining the rarity before popping the piece in his mouth. He made a sound, then smiled, his fork pointing at the second steak still waiting on the table. “If you’re still hungry, you should try the steak. It’s pretty good too.” 

At that point, Chris decided to surrender. “You know--I don’t know how you do it, but I’m  _ stuffed, _ ” he said, leaning back to pat his food-filled belly.

Derek’s answer wasn’t immediate; the hesitation was gone from his features, but he took a moment to give Chris a good once-over, like he was sizing him up, his mouth working on another piece of meat. “You’re kidding, right?” he finally said, a slow smile blooming on his lips. “C’mon, one burger ain’t nothing. I thought you said you were hungry.”

Chris could feel the shift in the mood, but he wasn’t going down that easy. “I think what I said was, ‘I could eat’.” He grabbed his drink, giving Derek a measured look as he leaned back again.

Derek didn’t miss a beat with his reply. “Well, can you?” His eyes were heavy on Chris, challenging and dark, his smile still in place like an invitation. He took another bite, humming at the taste as if to tease him. “Isn’t it a tradition to get gorged on a Fourth of July?” 

Chris chuckled. “Good food, good beer--all we’re missing is the fireworks.” He raised his bottle in a toast before drinking, getting a snort from Derek in reply.

He knew he was going to give in; he wasn’t  _ that _ full, not full enough that he couldn’t manage that steak. And if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to keep going, if only to keep Derek’s warm eyes on him. 

Chris watched Derek do away with his steak piece by piece, and he couldn’t help his gaze from slipping down his body. He wanted to see how all that food looked in Derek’s gut, how much rounder it had gotten; the thought filled him with heat, but the way Derek sat hunched over his plate gave him no way of confirming his mental images. 

He set his beer back on the table and flashed a grin at Derek. “I guess you’re right,” he said. He grabbed his fork and helped the steak from its plate to the one in front of him. Eyeing the table, he added some mac ‘n’ cheese on the side with a helping of Derek’s salad. Then he grabbed his utensils, giving Derek a look before starting.

“Just to honor the tradition.”

He could tell Derek wasn’t fooled.

“Good,” he said, grinning at Chris before continuing his meal. 

Chris started with a bit of everything on his fork. Derek’s cooking skills were definitely up to the occasion, as the steak was every bit as good as Derek’s praise had led him to believe. Combined with the cheesy mac, there was something in the taste that reminded Chris of days long gone, making him feel a pang of homesickness for the first time in a while; he had to wash the taste away with a drink before going back for more.

“Do you miss it?” 

“Miss what?”

Chris shrugged. “Home, I guess.”

Derek’s answer was quick. “No.” He was quiet for a moment, then seemed to force himself to relax. “If you mean Beacon Hills, there’s no family there for me anymore. My home is here now.”

“Could say the same for me.”

He caught Derek’s eyes; he didn’t need to say anything more. They shared a complicated past--one that had not always been friendly--but in this moment, it felt far enough that they could start from a clean slate. 

Chris didn’t regret going for another round. The food was  _ nice _ , and he had no problem eating his plate clean for a second time. The buzz he was getting from the beer calmed down most of the protesting his stomach was making, but it didn’t exactly help in making him feel less full. He could feel his belly growing tighter with each bite, each gulp, his breathing getting a bit harder as his stomach grew more stuffed. 

He was so focused on his own eating that he missed Derek finishing his until he caught the loud hiccup that escaped Derek’s lips. “‘Scuse me,” Derek said, but he was grinning in a way that was in no way apologetic. He hid his mouth behind his hand to let out a burp, then pointed towards the last remaining burger on the table. “You can still have that one, if you feel up to it.” 

Chris swallowed. “I, ah,” he started, looking from the burger to Derek. He could feel all the food he had just eaten sitting heavily in his gut, which was pushing against his shirt almost embarrassingly. He laughed softly, defeated. “I don’t think I could handle that.” He offered Derek a smile, his words coming out a bit more heated than he intended. “It’s all yours.”

Derek didn’t need any more convincing. He took the burger straight from the plate and bit into it, and Chris had to wonder how he could put away so much food at one sitting. He  _ devoured  _ the burger, more slowly than the first two but just as surely, and by the time Chris had finished the last of his steak, Derek was done with his meal as well. 

Derek leaned back with a groan, finally revealing what the meal had done to his physique. Chris could barely breathe as he took in the huge bulge of Derek’s gut; it looked so much  _ bigger  _ than before the meal, and considering how much Derek had eaten, it was no wonder. He wanted to say something, blood running hot in his veins, his body pulsing with a need he couldn’t find a name for--but Derek didn’t wait for him to find his voice. 

“Not too shabby, huh?” Derek shifted on his seat to find a better position, giving Chris a clear view of his swollen middle. His tank top was stretched tight around his paunch; Chris could see the little indent of Derek’s belly button through the dark fabric, and he was struck by the strangest craving to sink his teeth into that soft pudgy part right below it. 

He cleared his throat, trying to keep up with the conversation. “I--I think we upheld the tradition just fine,” he said. “That was a damn fine meal.” 

“You’re right about that. But just so you know, we’re not done yet.”

Chris caught Derek watching him, waiting to see his reaction. “You mean--”

Derek grinned. “There’s dessert.” 

Chris felt his stomach twinge from just the idea of eating anything more. “Ah, I don’t think I can--”

But Derek wouldn’t have no for an answer; he was already sitting up, waving off Chris’s objections. “You are not gonna want to pass on this, trust me.” He gave Chris a grin that sent a hot flash traveling down his spine, then disappeared into the house once more with his full gut leading the way. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chris sagged against his seat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his stomach groaning and gurgling and tried to ease it with his hands--god, it felt like he had swallowed a bowling ball. He ran his hands over his belly in slow, soothing circles, pushing against the fullness with his fingers. He gasped softly, feeling air coming up, but his stomach was still uncomfortably full. 

When had he last eaten so much? It must have been years ago--maybe one of those Thanksgivings when his wife had made that stuffing he loved, the one with cornbread and sausage. He could still remember the taste of it, and the way she had slid her hands around his waist to pat at his sated belly; her kisses had always been so sweet after a good meal.

Chris looked down at his stomach while still rubbing it, his mind winding back to present day. Derek--he was pushing Chris’s boundaries on purpose. There was no way he didn’t know how all this was affecting Chris. He was probably like an open book for someone like Derek, but the real question was--what exactly did  _ Derek _ want from  _ him _ ? 

Sex? 

Chris flushed at the thought, but before he could follow it any further, he heard the door creak open to signal Derek’s return. He emerged from the house carrying not one, but  _ two _ whole pies, a fresh pair of plates with clean spoons, and a knife for the cutting. 

“Christ,” Chris muttered. “You sure take this tradition seriously.”

“There’s a bakery downtown that makes the best pies around these parts.” Derek flashed him a grin, unloading his haul on the table. “It’s not  _ exactly _ like home, but it’s closest I’ve found.  _ Definitely _ good enough for the occasion.” He picked up the knife, getting ready to cut out a slice.

Chris stared at the dessert. One of the pies looked like pecan, and the other one, coated in meringue, could only be lemon flavored. He swallowed--despite his stomach still aching from the main course, he felt his mouth wetting in anticipation at the sight of the sugary sweetness in front of him.

“I don’t, uh.” He cleared his throat, and started again. “I think I’ll pass, I... feel pretty full.”

“You want me to help you with that?”

Derek’s offer came with a warm hand firmly pressed against Chris’s stomach. He jolted from surprise, gasping at the contact, but Derek kept his hand right where he’d put it. 

“What--” 

The question died on his lips. There was a strange sensation spreading to him from where Derek’s palm pressed on his middle. It felt like waves pulsing through him, leaving not pain but a warm sort of numbness behind them. Chris felt his heart rate calm down, a blissful high coming over him just as he realized what was happening. He exhaled, his head nodding slightly, his eyes shut. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Derek made a noncommittal sound; the healing stopped, but Chris could feel the weight of Derek’s hand still resting on his gut. He let it stay there for a breath, not moving, until Chris exhaled again. 

“Just leveling the playfield.” 

Derek withdrew his hand, and Chris opened his eyes to meet his gaze. He looked flushed, round-cheeked and gorgeous, and Chris wanted to return the favor and feel that gloriously bloated gut under his palms--but the moment passed too fast for him to make his move. 

He watched Derek go back to cutting both pies into slices. His head felt woozy, but otherwise, he felt  _ good.  _ Chris sat up tentatively. His stomach was heavy, but there was no pain, so he pulled his chair in and settled back at the table. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Don’t mention it.” Derek set his knife down, and there was that familiar heat in his eyes when he looked at Chris. “Now, one slice of each?”

“Uh,” Chris startled, glancing quickly at the dessert. He blanched a little as he realized Derek had cut each pie into just four quarters--which meant two slices would equal half a pie. Though his stomach felt painless  _ now, _ he knew he was more than full enough without overdosing on pie. “I think just one slice will be enough.”

Derek didn’t make a move except to raise his brow. “You sure? You’re going to leave me to finish the rest by myself?”

Chris froze. In his mind, he saw Derek tackling those pies alone, his gut growing to impossible sizes at the face of his gluttony. His body was suddenly tingling; he shifted on his seat, trying to relax. 

“Okay, okay. One of each.” He sought out Derek’s gaze, unsure as to why but still needing to see him. He managed to pull on half a smile before saying, “You can have the rest.”

“Sounds like a plan--but you should try it first before making such promises.” Derek grinned, his eyes sparking. “You have no idea how good it is.”

Chris shook his head, but he was grinning as well. The werewolf mojo that had healed him had left him with a kind of stoned feeling; he felt less nervous, less worried. And more--alive, to put it simply. He wanted Derek to touch him again, not to heal, but to  _ feel  _ him. The thought made his blood heat up.

“There you go,” Derek said, handing him his dessert. 

The plate was slightly smaller than their dinnerware had been, but the pie still filled up most of it. The pecan one looked moist and  _ thick _ , the lemon one fluffier with a creamy yellow filling. Chris realized that despite being full, he  _ wanted _ to eat more. 

“Damn, I forgot the ice cream!” 

Chris snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I can go get some if you want? I heated up the pies so the ice cream would melt perfectly--”

Chris cut him off with a laugh. “No, I’m good.”

“Whipped cream?”

Chris just shook his head. 

Derek seemed to be considering, his eyes measuring the distance to the kitchen. After a moment, he shrugged, picking up his plate and moving back to his seat. He grasped his utensils, ready to dive in, but paused to ask one more question. “You need something to drink?”

Chris checked his beer, which was almost empty. 

“I can get you another one,” Derek offered, but Chris waved him off. 

“I’m good with some water.”

“Oh.” Derek shrugged, pointing his spoon at the tray he’d brought from the house when they first came outside. “There’s a jug there. The ice has probably melted, but it should still be cool.”

Chris thanked him, and got himself a glass. While he was taking a drink, he had time to look at Derek’s serving of the pie and--wow. He had somehow managed to arrange three slices of it on his plate, and the huge pieces dwarfed the plate underneath, their sides and corners pushing over the white edges. Chris had a hard time swallowing as he watched Derek cut off the tip from his slice of pecan pie and serve it to his mouth, a look of pleasure crossing over his face at the taste. He hummed, savoring it, then immediately went back for more; Chris had to tear his gaze off to focus on his own dessert. 

He picked the lemon pie to start with; it was sweet and fluffy, the meringue melting in his mouth. Despite his fullness, every bite made him want more, and he was done with the slice quicker than he’d imagined. 

He ran a hand over his stomach while taking a pause to rinse his mouth with water; his gut felt hard and  _ big _ , his breathing more laboured because of his swollen gut. 

“You holding up okay?” 

Chris glanced up at Derek’s question, flushing from getting caught. He didn’t move his hand though--he wanted Derek to keep watching him. 

“Yeah, all thanks to your healing magic.” He flashed a grin at Derek, patting his gut. He could see Derek’s eyes being drawn to the movement of his hand, the look on his face not hiding his interest. 

“Good,” Derek said. He had momentarily forgotten his dessert; his features were soft as he watched Chris smoothing his hand over his tight stomach. “You should try the pecan, it’s even better than the lemon.” 

“Oh, I believe you,” Chris said. “You’ve been right so far.”

On a whim, he took his plate and leaned back, resting his arm on his stomach to hold it while he ate. He cut off a piece from the pecan pie and inspected it, then slowly brought it to his lips. The sweetness hit him immediately and--oh, it was _good,_ so good he almost forgot he was putting on a show. He glanced up, meeting Derek’s eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Derek’s voice was rougher, warm and full of mirth; it sent a shiver down Chris’s spine, heat trickling down to the pit of his gut. “I can see from your face that I was right. _Again_.” 

Derek smirked; he seemed to be in no hurry to finish his pie. Instead, he picked up his drink and kept his focus on Chris, watching as he devoured his slice of pie, bite by bite. 

It didn’t go down as easy as the first one. Despite his bravado, he was just too  _ full _ . 

But Chris felt almost compelled to keep eating. He fell into a zone, one spoonful following another; the rich filling of the pie stuck to the roof of his mouth, forcing him to reach for his drink, but he kept going, chewing and swallowing. Whenever he glanced up, he saw Derek--working his way through his own dessert in leisurely bites, eyes never straying too far from Chris. 

He licked his crumb covered lips. He could feel the anticipation building up inside him, as tangible as the food filling his stomach. He wanted to play--god, he wanted  _ more _ of whatever Derek had in mind. He wanted Derek to touch him, to take away the pain, but also to soothe another kind of ache, intimate and wordless.

He cleared his throat, but couldn’t get rid of the thickness that seemed stuck there. “I-ah.” He hesitated, feeling drunk and suddenly overwhelmed. “Sorry, can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” Derek said. “It’s in the foyer, on the right.”

Chris excused himself with a weak smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like he was fleeing.

 

 

 

He held it together until he got inside the house, then the fullness of his gut caught up with him. Chris grimaced, holding his belly as if to keep it from exploding because that’s how he felt--filled up to bursting, way past his comfort zone. It wasn’t even all that painful--Derek’s magic still took off the sharpest edge of the hurt--but he knew he had gone too far when he could barely  _ breathe _ from how full he was. 

Chris let out a long burp, rubbing the sides of his stomach drunkenly as he made his way to the bathroom. Inside, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t resist--he turned to face himself full on, hands still on his belly. 

_ God _ . Now he knew why Derek had been staring at him--his stomach looked absolutely  _ huge _ . The fitted shirt he was wearing hugged his bloated gut tightly, almost gapping at the buttons. Chris ran his palms over his middle, eyes transfixed on the sight, but he needed to see more. 

A quick tug pulled the hem of his shirt up above his stomach; Chris exhaled, blood thrumming in his ears as he relaxed his stomach muscles and let his gut push out unrestricted. His skin was shiny and hot under his touch, his abdominal muscles stretched visibly by his food filled stomach. 

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself, rubbing a slow circle over the crest of his hard gut. Turning sideways, he almost wanted to laugh at how  _ curved _ his usually lean waist looked, but there was something else underneath the absurdity. He felt too hot in his skin, the memory of Derek’s eyes on him burning him up. If this was going where he imagined--Chris made a sound, fingers kneading the hard bloat of his gut, his mind conjuring up Derek’s hand in place of his...

A smile twitched on his lips, sudden as the rush of exhilarating desire lifting his spirits. He pulled down his shirt, biting back a grin as he turned away from the mirror. 

He might still get his fireworks, and he could hardly wait.


	4. Chapter 4

iv.

 

Stepping back out to the yard, Chris found Derek sitting in the swing set, looking decidedly gorged. 

The setting sun painted the cozy little nook around the swing in a cast of orange and gold, and Derek seemed to blend in perfectly to the picture it created. This time, Chris didn’t stoop to stealing glances. He strolled back towards the tiled corner at a leisurely gait, his overstuffed gut only part of the reason for his lack of hurry. He drank in the view presented to him with budding confidence, appreciating every detail as he walked closer.

“Welcome back. You ready for round two?” 

Derek’s grin was full of promise as Chris stopped in front of him. He had taken the rest of the pie with him before relocating beneath the shade of the swing, and now the plate with a slice of each pie balanced on top of his belly. Chris felt a thrill run down his spine as he watched it teeter on the bulge of Derek’s gut, rising and falling in time with his breathing. 

To add to the image of debauchery, the black shirt Derek wore now molded over the firm, round paunch on his middle like second skin. It wasn’t enough to cover it completely anymore, though, and a sliver of skin showed right at the bottom, an inch or so of plump flesh left bare by the too small shirt, and--Chris wanted to touch it. 

He cleared his throat, his brain fizzling with possibilities. “Looks like you’ve got a head start on me--isn’t there one slice missing from that plate?” He gestured towards the pie, but his eyes weighed heavy on Derek’s, his brow raised in question.

Derek’s grin grew wider, and oh, it was a glorious sight on his rounded face. “Oops, you got me there.” He gave a lazy shrug, licking his lips as his eyes slid down Chris’s body. “Didn’t think you had that much fight left in you.”

Chris tried not to flush under Derek’s keen gaze. He knew the fit of his shirt was bordering on ridiculous, but that didn’t seem to bother Derek. If anything, his eyes seemed to linger on Chris’s middle, the look on his face almost smug, like he was proud of his work. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Chris said, “I wasn’t planning on eating that.” He let his gaze trail down Derek’s body in equal appreciation. “Not all of us have the capacity for downing an entire pie on top of a full meal.”

Derek made a sound; his cheeks looked flushed under the scruff when Chris glanced up, his eyes low lidded and dark. “I don’t know, I think you did pretty well.”

He shrugged. “I know when I’ve lost.” He smiled, hand grazing over his swollen gut. Derek’s eyes followed its path eagerly, looking so openly  _ hungry _ and--fuck, he couldn’t be more clear in what he wanted. 

Chris had forgotten what it felt like to be desired in this way. He could barely draw in a breath, his body tingling all over, blood rushing hard in his veins. It all blended with the dull ache of his stomach and the heat he felt from looking at Derek’s soft existence, and Chris felt his control slipping with each word exchanged between them, with each suggestive look Derek aimed at him.

He felt high and drunk, and Derek  _ knew _ . The cocky bastard was playing him unfairly. He knew exactly what Chris wanted, and looked ready to give it as he shifted on his seat, steadying the plate on his belly as he moved to make room for Chris. “Didn’t know this was a competition,” Derek said as he settled back, stretching out on the swing’s padded seat. He didn’t bother adjusting the hem of his shirt to cover up.

“What exactly would you call it then?” 

Derek waited for him to take a seat before answering. “A proper feast?” he suggested, turning to look at Chris. “Told you from the get go, today’s for burgers and beer.”

“And pie.” 

Derek laughed, the plate bouncing on his belly. “And pie, yes.” He glanced at it, then asked, “You want me to get your spoon? I only brought mine.”

Chris felt a hot flash go through him, but as tempting as sharing a pie off Derek’s belly sounded, he couldn’t. Just the idea of eating something more made his stomach churn uncomfortably. It already felt like it might pop at any moment.

“I’m--too full.” He lifted his arms in surrender, resting them on his belly as he set them down. “You can have it.”

Derek’s eyes darted down. “You want another dose? I can help you out.” He lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers a little.

Chris swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling thick. “Thanks, but--I’m okay.” 

The thought of Derek’s hand on his gut made his heart beat faster, heat building up inside him, but he was buzzed enough as it was. Derek didn’t press it. He shrugged, but there was a flash of unmistakable amusement on his face, in the way he bit back a grin, and Chris suddenly wanted to wipe the smugness off Derek’s lips. 

He needed an edge. 

They were sitting so close Chris only had to lean over to touch Derek. He didn’t let hesitation into his moves as he palmed Derek’s belly with one hand and said, “I can return the favor, though, if you want me to.” Derek gave a gasp of surprise as Chris pressed his hand flat against the smooth curve of his gut, fingers skirting the strip of skin where Derek’s shirt had ridden up; Chris had to fight not to lose his track of thought at the sheer  _ softness  _ of it. “You want me to help you finish round two?” 

There was a moment where his words hung in the air, where everything that had been simmering below surface was suddenly laid out in the open. Chris was aware that this was  _ Derek  _ he was talking to-- _ Derek Hale _ , in all his wolfish glory--but at the same time, it felt so irrelevant. This Derek who had been flirting with him all evening, whose eyes lit up when he looked at Chris, who was so soft and seductive it drove Chris out of his comfort zone--it didn’t matter what had passed between them in the past. Here and now, he wanted to give Derek something back. 

Derek’s hand slid over his, and between the warm touch and his full gut, Chris got his answer.

“Be my guest,” Derek rumbled, guiding Chris’s hand to rub over his belly. His eyes searched out Chris’s gaze, and he looked so  _ pleased _ with himself, Chris couldn’t hold back any longer. 

He kissed Derek. It hadn’t been his plan to do so, but it happened, and when he felt Derek respond, nothing could stop him. He wrapped his arm around Derek’s middle and claimed him, with his lips and his touch, tender and impatient. He tasted like sugar--so sweet Chris found himself chasing the taste with his tongue, licking against Derek’s lips.

“You sure you don’t want more pie?” Derek asked when they broke apart; he was grinning, but his gaze was heavy and dark, setting Chris’s heart racing. “You still seem hungry.”

God, how could Derek even say such a line? Chris resisted the urge to kiss him again, moving his hand to cradle Derek’s belly against his arm. “How about you get to work instead of trying to push that pie on me? Already told you I’m done.” He lifted Derek’s gut and jiggled it, enough to rock the plate still perched on his swollen stomach, and  _ fuck, _ why was it so  _ hot? _ He could barely get the words out, his voice rough when he continued, “But I bet you can find some room in here to fit those last slices--you look like you’ve been practicing.”

He saw Derek’s expression change; the cocky grin made way to a more flustered look, the color on his cheeks deepening, and Chris held back a smirk. He bit on his lip, directing his attention to where Derek’s skin pressed against his, that soft bit of flesh under Derek’s navel that rested heavy against Chris’s arm, so plump and irresistible. 

But Derek recovered quickly. “A wolf’s gotta eat,” he said, eyes flashing as he met Chris’s gaze. He didn’t make a move on the pie, though. It almost looked like he was waiting for Chris to  _ make him  _ eat it, and--okay, he could get behind that.

Chris hummed, a heady rush of arousal guiding his hand as palmed the curve of Derek’s lower gut. “I can see that.” He squeezed at the softness, feeling drunk and elated to be allowed to do so, to be invited to touch Derek like this. “All that food tonight--it was all meant to be just for you, wasn’t it?”

Derek’s breath hitched. “Maybe I was expecting company.”

“Didn’t look like you were.”

Chris let his hand slide, caress and tease Derek’s pudgy waist, and he could see Derek  _ shivering _ in response. The plate on his belly looked precariously close to falling as Chris sunk his fingers into Derek’s soft flesh and wobbled his gut, both of them struck silent by the sight.  

“Well, good thing I was prepared. Otherwise you’d gone hungry.” 

Chris dragged his eyes up to Derek’s face. There was a look in his eyes that seemed out of place for the moment, something like loneliness underneath the glimmer of lust, deep emotion hidden behind the playful grin on his lips. He blinked, thinking through the fuzziness in his brain--

“Derek--” He stopped, weighing his words carefully. “--what about Braeden?”

Her name made Derek’s expression falter just slightly; he glanced away, pulling in a breath. “She’s gone.” 

“Were you waiting for her to--”

“No.” Derek’s answer was definite, not angry but not without an edge. “She’s not coming back.” 

After a beat of silence, Chris nodded. He could see the hurt in the tight set of Derek’s jaw, the way his gaze had gone cold at the mention of her name, but there was nothing he could do about that. Nothing except leave her out of it. This feast was for Derek. 

And if Derek wanted to be incited to finish the pie--Chris could do one better.  

“You were right about this pie.” 

He reached over to pick the spoon off Derek’s plate, taking a moment to compare the last slices of each pie, their taste still fresh in his memory. “Maybe not as good as homemade, but damn good for the occasion.” Derek didn’t answer, but Chris could feel his attention on him as he broke off a piece of the sweet lemon pie, lifting it carefully before turning back to look at Derek. 

“You visit that bakery often?” 

Derek’s eyes shifted from the pie to him. “Often enough,” he said. “It’s good, and I like their pie.”

Chris swallowed. “Based on your performance tonight, I’d say you like eating in general.” He held Derek’s gaze as he brought the spoon over his chest and to his lips, raising his brow in quiet challenge, but Derek didn’t make him wait.

“Guilty as charged.”

His eyes danced with delight as he caught the spoon in his mouth, humming as the pie disappeared down his throat, and Chris had to swallow again, a rush of heat spearing through his spine. He didn’t wait, spooning up another piece of pie to feed Derek.

“So all that food... it was for you.”

Derek licked his lips, accepting another offering of pie from Chris’s hand. “I like to keep well stocked.”

An image of the cozy little kitchen filtered through Chris’s mind, its tables filled with treats, the fridge shelves loaded with rich food. He hummed in agreement, cutting off more pie and serving it to Derek’s lips.

“I can see that,” he said. “But tonight--it’s a special occasion, right?”

Chris was getting better at reading Derek; he could see the flicker of excitement that crossed over Derek’s features at his words--how every time Chris broached the subject of his eating habits, there was that keen look of interest and intrigue, lust simmering in the depths of his gaze. It made Chris’s blood rush faster, his heart thudding to keep up; he just needed to push a little further...

“It’s the Fourth.” Derek burped before giving a shrug, loose and relaxed, a grin still on his lips. “Of course, it’s a special occasion.”

“You know what I mean.”

Chris loaded his spoon with pie and moved closer, catching the plate on Derek’s gut to keep it from falling over. He felt his own gut give protest, but the hurt was still dull, easily drowned out by the desire driving him forward. He held the spoon aimed at Derek’s lips, waiting for him to take it.

“You got all that food just for yourself, Derek, because you  _ like  _ eating. You wanted to have a feast, didn’t you? Wanted to eat all that food by yourself.”

Derek’s eyes flashed. Chris shivered, his breath catching in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he’d gone too far. But then Derek leaned forward, craning to close the short distance between the spoon and his mouth. “You got sharp eyes,” he said, smirking as he claimed the dessert by locking his mouth over the spoon, and--Chris shuddered at the image, at the ghost feel of the motion he felt deep down in his core.

He _wanted_ Derek. He wanted everything that was new to him, the softness of his frame and the friendly hospitality he’d shown since the beginning of the evening--there was something so enticing about this new Derek that Chris just couldn’t resist him. But it wasn’t just that.

This was still  _ Derek _ .

“Why did you invite me in? You had it all planned out. Why invite company?”

He could see that the question took Derek by surprise; he wagered his answer for a moment too long, eyes wandering to the pie and to Chris’s hand steadying the plate, resting over the swell of his round belly like it belonged there. His grin faded out, the look on his face softer when he smiled. “It’s nice to have company, a friendly face to share a meal with, you know?” He moved his hand over Chris’s, releasing his grip on the plate to guide it down over his full belly. “I didn’t plan on this to happen. It’s--” He paused, but Chris was too preoccupied by the feel of his warm, fuzzy belly under his fingers, the gentle press of Derek’s hand over his, to wonder what had caused it. He saw Derek’s belly expand as he pulled in a breath, then deflate as he said, “It’s nice. I’m glad you stayed.”

Chris felt a flutter in his chest; he dragged his gaze up to meet Derek’s, a reply ready on his lips.

But he didn’t say it. He was suddenly tired of words--he wanted to  _ taste _ Derek, feel his body under his. Prying his hand free, Chris replaced the plate on the other side of Derek, freeing the space for himself. He didn’t let himself think as he draped over Derek and kissed him, touching him with open need. Derek groaned against his mouth when he splayed his fingers wide over Derek’s gut and shook it, grasping to feel more of his fleshy side. It was so satisfying, so gratifying to feel that mound of a belly under his touch, full and yielding, stuffed with so much good food.

He moaned against Derek, breaking away from the kiss to look down. He took a moment marvel the fit of Derek’s clothes; the parts they covered slick and tight, like the crest of his gut and his thick thighs, and the parts they revealed--

“This is a good look on you,” he said, voice reduced to a low growl. He drew a circle over the top of Derek’s belly, patting it, loving the sharp gasp he got in response. Chris let his hand wander over the curves and swells painted by the black shirt, then dip down to where its hem now encircled Derek’s belly button. He palmed a handful of Derek’s plump lower gut, feeling the firmness beneath the layer of chubby flesh as he squeezed it. “A very good look indeed.”

Derek sucked in a breath. “Could say the same thing about you.”

Chris flushed, feeling Derek’s eyes on his bloated middle, but he didn’t let that distract him. “I’d say you’re a fair bit ahead of me.” He smacked Derek’s belly, humming appreciatively at the tiny ripples that went through his flesh, the breathless gasp that escaped Derek. His hand slipped under Derek’s shirt, peeling it back until it was bunched up over his swollen gut, but he still needed  _ more _ .

He let his hand trail up higher, rubbing over Derek’s plush pecs, fingers combing through the dark fuzz of hair on his chest. He licked his lips; he could feel his control slipping, lust building up inside him as he delved into soft flesh, teasing the hard tips of Derek’s nipples, and--

“I didn’t take you for a chub lover, Chris.”

He felt a thrill at hearing the words, in the way Derek’s voice was barely above a whisper but still so clearly meant to push him. He sounded as lost as Chris felt, his breathing rougher, punctuated by inhales and exhales as Chris’s fingers explored his flesh--but Chris wasn’t fooled.

He knew Derek hadn’t given in yet.

Suddenly, Derek’s hands joined Chris on his front. He grabbed his own gut and  _ shook _ it, causing his fat belly and chest to bounce under Chris’s touch, and he was captured by the sight, the feel of pliant flesh jiggling against him--

“You can just admit it,” Derek said. “I  _ know  _ you like it.”

His voice was so  _ cocksure _ , so smug that Chris wanted to groan, but he couldn’t deny Derek wasn’t right. “You’re not playing a fair game,  _ werewolf _ ,” he ground back, finally looking up to level a gaze with Derek.

“Well, you’re not exactly hiding it.”

There was a grin playing on his lips, but the spots of red on Derek’s cheeks betrayed how into it he was, and Chris knew what he needed to do. He reached over Derek and picked up what was left of the lemon pie, leaning closer as he guided the pie to Derek’s mouth. “Talking about hiding,” he murmured, teasing Derek with the dessert until his lips parted to accept it. “You’re doing none too good in that department either.”

Derek made a sound, his mouth full of pie, but Chris didn’t give him a chance to talk. “ _ This _ is what you like,” he continued, eyes fixed on Derek’s face. “This whole meal has been like foreplay to you, hasn’t it? Getting off on your own gluttony... That’s pretty kinky, Derek.” He made sure Derek kept eating, not retreating until he was working on the crust, crumbs and pie filling smeared on his lips. That’s when Chris brought his own lips to Derek’s, chasing the sugary taste with his tongue, hands sliding down to clasp Derek’s erection through his shorts.

His response was loud and clear; Derek groaned against Chris’s mouth, hips bucking against his hand, and now Chris could play the smug one. “You can just admit it,” he said, pulling back from the kiss to leer at Derek. “I know you l--”

Derek pulled him back with a hand to his neck, the kiss cutting off his taunting. But Chris didn’t mind. He stroked his palm over Derek’s cock, enjoying how it made Derek’s mouth more hungry, his kisses full of bite and yearning.

He wanted--god, he wanted  _ all _ of it.

“You think you got me all figured out, hunter.”

Derek’s voice was soft in contrast to his words; Chris rubbed his palm over the bulge of his erection, waiting for Derek to go on, but he stayed quiet.

“What am I missing, then?”

Derek’s eyes glinted; he licked his lips and shifted on his seat, his hand brushing past Chris’s as he reached to unbutton his shorts. Chris swallowed, mesmerized by the sudden expanse of Derek’s gut as it now rose free from the pressure of his waistband, looking  _ rounder _ , fuller and just so impossibly swollen.

But Derek didn’t stop there. He tugged off his shirt, revealing strong shoulders and the delightful rolls on his sides, and Chris could barely hold back from touching them, immediately.

“You got it all right,” Derek said. He glanced away, then returned with the last slice of pie in his hand. The way he looked at Chris gave him goosebumps.

“Except it’s not just  _ my _ gluttony that turns me on. You did good, Chris, you did--that was fucking hot what you did.”

Chris felt lost all of a sudden, frozen yet on fire; he jolted from surprise as Derek’s hand pressed against his bloated stomach, but even that couldn’t rob his attention from the pie Derek was holding.

“You wanna help me finish this or not?”

His heart gave a thud. “I--” He stopped when he felt the familiar pull on his middle; the effect of the healing magic was immediate, like a drug straight to his vein, but Chris didn’t move away from it. He let it wash over him, replace the ache in his gut with bliss, fill his head with fluff and lightness.

He didn’t wait for Derek to finish, but gave his answer by catching the tip of the pie slice between his teeth. The bite was all he needed to remind himself of how  _ good  _ it was, and he didn’t resist when Derek offered him another one. It wasn’t hunger that made him keep eating--it was the pleased rumble that came from Derek, the firm grasp of his hand on his tight gut, and he kept chewing, gasping through a mouth full of dessert as Derek rubbed his stomach.

But then he was chomping on air, and Derek’s voice was as harsh as a growl, heated with excitement bubbling under his words when he said, “See? You got it in you, Chris, you almost finished the whole thing yourself.”

He blinked his eyes open, but everything still looked like a blur. He was dimly aware of the grin on Derek’s lips, but he was too far gone to think of a reply. He moved on instinct as he turned on his seat, barely registering the swing shifting and creaking underneath him when he climbed on it.

There was nothing ceremonial in the way he face planted himself on Derek’s gut. It still felt like a dream come true--a fever dream that had been burning Chris since his arrival, finally realized in vivid detail. He buried his face against Derek’s belly, mouthing at the hot skin with greed. If he didn’t think, it wasn’t weird--just a need being fulfilled, even if it was a bizarre, absurd need, something he’d never known he even wanted.

He gasped against Derek’s flesh when he felt his hand return on Chris’s stomach; with his legs on the swing now, his position offered the perfect opening for Derek to play with his belly, but he wasn’t satisfied with just that. Chris felt him trail over the buttons of his shirt, then pluck one open, and fuck, it must have been  _ tight _ because Chris felt that too--the sense of release, the pressure on his full stomach easing as Derek opened the buttons, one after the other.

Chris muffled his moan on Derek’s belly when his fingers grazed bare skin; he could still taste sugar on his tongue, on Derek’s flesh, the mess on his lips catching on Derek. It shouldn’t drive him mad with lust, but it did, pushing him over the edge and out of control.

Moments passed in delirious lust. Now that he’d gotten started, Chris didn’t want to stop--he licked and kissed and groaned, covering Derek’s skin with bites and bruises that faded as soon as they appeared. His hands wandered endless rounds over Derek’s bloated gut, testing and playing with its hardness, grabbing at softness where they found it. And Derek did none worse--there was no more healing coming from his palm, but his touch felt  _ incredible _ , the way his deft fingers kneaded Chris’s stomach a drug on their own right.

The next step came as natural as breathing; Chris had his mouth locked on Derek’s nipple, his hand squeezing Derek’s middle, and the sounds that filled the silence between them were breathless with desire. He teased the roll of pudge above Derek’s waistband, just to hear more of those beautiful sounds, before finding his way inside Derek’s unbuttoned shorts. His fingers wrapped around his erection, and Derek sucked in a breath, choking out grunt when Chris tightened his grip and pulled his cock free.

Chris rested his cheek against Derek’s chest to catch his breath, but he felt too restless to stay quiet. “You feel so full,” he said, voice muted as he looked down over the dome of Derek’s gut. It was a stupid thing to say, but it sent a surge of heat through him; his gaze fixed on the crumbs and spit stuck on Derek’s belly hair, and another feeling surfaced, but Chris didn’t let it take root. He stroked Derek’s cock with slowly building rhythm, like he was drawing energy from the movement, keeping it up until Derek was panting; his hand on Chris’s waist reached lower, searching--

Chris pushed himself up so he could look at Derek. “Did you finish the pie?” The sudden movement rocked the swing a little, but Chris didn’t release his grip, steadying himself on Derek’s shoulder with his free hand; Derek hardly seemed to notice.

And following his gaze, Chris realized why. His shirt had fallen open around his stomach, showing the bulge of his full belly. It looked even bigger than before when he’d spied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Chris wasn’t used to looking like this--flat abs stretched so wide that just looking at them made him ache, feel a shadow of the hurt he  _ should  _ be experiencing--but instead, the view made him  _ hard. _

Derek palmed his gut, pushing the shirt aside to see more; his touch felt like fire on Chris’s heated skin. He shuddered. “You gotta finish first.” He was surprised at how level his voice sounded when he moved to stop Derek. His brain felt like scrambled eggs, choppy and sizzling when he tried to form thoughts, but he’d been through worse. He was a goddamn  _ hunter, _ wasn’t he?

“You finish the pie, and then you get to finish me.” He released Derek’s cock only to grasp it again, to remind him who was in charge. “ _ Greedy wolf _ .”

Derek growled at him, his eyes flashing, but Chris wasn’t scared. He could feel Derek’s arousal in the way he pushed his hips forward, grinding against his hand, his gut wobbling with the motion. His face relaxed into a smirk, eyes dimming to smoldering green. He licked his lips, and Chris shivered.

“Fair enough,” he said. “I did promise to eat what you left over.”

With that, he took what was left of the pie and shoved it into his mouth; he didn’t seem the slightest bit hindered by the food already in his gut, and  _ fuck, _ Chris was so ready to feel that insatiable mouth on him.

Derek didn’t take long to work through the final piece. He brushed his knuckles over Chris’s gut while chewing, just to tease a shiver out of him, but when he finished, he held up a hand. “Hold on,” he said. “I need a drink.”

Chris didn’t realize he’d meant the  _ hold on  _ literally until Derek leaned forward with a grunt, reaching for something out of sight. The swing tilted, and Chris was left to find his balance quickly before falling off.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to rock the boat that hard.”

Derek chuckled as Chris caught himself with a leg back to the tiling, halfway between standing up. Derek was holding a beer, and he tipped it back, drinking in hard chugs. Chris almost forgot himself watching that show--the big round belly rolling over Derek’s full cock, the satisfied belch he let out after he was done.  

“You need a swig?”

Chris licked his dry lips, nodding as he accepted the bottle; he was thirstier than he’d noticed. He got off the swing to stand, then drank, finishing what little was left in the bottle in one go.

He barely had time to lower the bottle from his lips when Derek’s hands were already on him. “ _ Now _ do I get my prize?” he murmured, tugging at his belt loops to get him closer.

Chris let out a gasp. “I thought this wasn’t a competition.”

“For a job well done, then?” Derek shrugged loosely, allocating Chris between his legs, fingers ready on his waistband, and--who was he to resist if Derek wanted him that badly.

“Mm, yeah. You did well.” Chris discarded the empty bottle and focused on Derek. He secured his hands on his shoulders, smiling down at him, and said, “Now there’s just one more thing to finish off...”

Derek’s eyes glinted. “Good thing I always have room for something more.”

He looked so gorgeous in that moment, face flushed and eyes alight when he looked up to him. Chris felt a warm feeling coursing through him, and it had nothing to do with lust. He cupped Derek’s cheek in the palm of his hand; his eyelids fluttered, closing momentarily, and he leaned into Chris’s touch.

“Greedy wolf,” Chris whispered softly, petting Derek’s cheek.

He felt Derek hum in response, but he didn’t speak. His hands were hard on Chris’s hips when he moved forward, pressing his mouth against Chris’s abdomen to taste his skin. It felt surprisingly hot, pulling out a gasp from Chris, and he let Derek trail kisses on his belly, his hand finding the back of Derek’s head. It hadn’t occurred to Chris to ask if Derek knew what he was doing, but he took the way Derek moved so eagerly, without hesitation, as answer enough to his question. In no time at all, Derek had worked his jeans open and pushed them down enough to reveal his erection, and his firm fingers wrapped around its base.

Chris definitely didn’t need any more foreplay. When Derek swallowed the length of his cock, he felt like his knees might buckle--it was  _ that _ good. The heat of Derek’s mouth, the slick wet presence of his tongue gliding along his shaft, it felt so great Chris forgot everything else. His fingers caught in Derek’s hair, feeling the rhythm as Derek took him in again and again, letting that beautiful, voracious mouth do what it was oh so skilled at doing. He let Derek  _ devour  _ him, wholly and completely, not stopping until Chris’s thighs were quivering under the strain, his hands balled into fists, a voiceless cry stuck at the back of his throat as he closed in on his orgasm.

It really didn’t take that much to get him off--the night had been long and full of surprises, but at the bottom of it, the simplest things worked. Derek’s hands sliding up his waist to caress his bloated stomach, that gentle pressure on his full gut lighting up a fire in his veins, and Chris felt suddenly overwhelmed, whiting out, the climax hitting him full on.

Derek slowed down as he felt Chris coming; he kept his mouth on his cock until he was done, swallowing up every last bit of his seed.

“God, Jesus, that was...” Chris sighed, his muscles shivering and twitching with aftershocks. He was past the stage where he could form proper thoughts, so he squeezed Derek’s shoulders, petting his hair quietly, wanting to convey his feelings somehow.

“You deserved it.”

Derek looked up and their eyes met, and the warmth inside Chris’s chest grew almost unbearable--he folded down to his knees, pulling Derek’s mouth to his. He could taste himself on Derek, that intimate, salty taste adding to the sweetness of the kiss. It spurred him on, bringing his hands down on Derek’s chest and his gut, and he deepened the kiss, not wanting to make Derek wait.

“You deserve it too,” he murmured, brushing his lips against Derek’s. “So much.”

He started down Derek’s jaw and neck, placing lingering kisses on his skin. The swing creaked as Derek leaned back, repositioning himself to give Chris more access, and he found himself back on Derek’s gut, hands and lips caressing the dome of his round, stuffed belly. Chris didn’t hold back his voice--he moaned low in his throat as he embraced Derek’s gorged gut, grasping the rolls of pudge on his sides as he buried his face in the softness below his navel.

The bliss from his orgasm made everything so much easier. He didn’t need to think--he just followed his instincts, letting desire lead his actions. He found Derek’s cock again, his fingers wrapping around its hardness to give it a stroke; Derek’s responding groan egged him on and Chris did it again, sucking a kiss on Derek’s lower gut while jerking his cock in a slow, searching rhythm.

It was hard to say why it pleased him so much rub his face all over Derek’s gut like this. It felt almost primal, an urge stripped bare of reservations and shame, leaving only the burning need to  _ feel _ , to touch and taste that mound of flesh in front of him. He felt high from just doing that--high like he’d never been in his life before, unrestrained to the point where he wasn’t sure he could stop if he wanted to.

But Derek didn’t ask him to stop, and Chris nearly lost himself in the feel of hot skin against his face. He wanted to revel in that combination of firm and soft for an eternity, covering every inch of Derek’s body with the praise and adoration he’d earned, but the momentum was too great to dwell there; Derek was already breathing hard, his hips living with the pace set by Chris’s hand, edging him to go faster, harder...

“Easy,” Chris said, “almost there.”

He sat back to give Derek a look, but the sight spread out in front of him stole his attention. Derek looked--

“You can spend the rest of the night staring at my gut but  _ please _ , I need to come. Now.”

Chris’s eyes snapped up to see Derek grinning at him, but there was hardness in his gaze that underlined his demand. Chris nodded, resuming the motion on Derek’s cock, his grip tight around the length of it.

He wet his lips, then crouched down to take Derek in his mouth; he held his cock by the base and licked a long stripe along its side, but didn’t let himself get carried away by teasing. Derek had already waited long enough--now it was Chris’s turn to give him his prize.

It was probably not the best blowjob he had ever given. Chris had been in this position before, but--never quite like this. For one thing, he felt breathless from how stuffed he was, little burps bubbling up his throat when he moved around. His full stomach felt hard and heavy when he tried to bend down, like he’d filled it with rocks. Even if it wasn’t painful, he felt hindered by it, and the hunter in him cursed the lack of mobility his indulgence had caused. It made him feel weirdly vulnerable, even though technically he was the one in charge now, with Derek’s erection at the mercy of his mouth.

For another thing, he’d never sucked off a werewolf.

He switched between jerking Derek off with his hand and taking him back in his mouth, trying to find a good rhythm; his hands kept wandering, groping and kneading Derek’s gut where he could. He pushed his head against Derek’s belly like a cat, rubbing his forehead against the swell of his gut while keeping his cock between his lips, not wanting to part with the sensation. Derek’s breathing grew erratic, his sounds more muted as he neared his climax, but every time Chris shook his belly, it shocked out a gasp from him--so he kept doing it, fitting it in with the movements of his mouth.

But despite everything he did, Derek still hung on the edge of his climax; Chris pulled back to catch his breath, stretching out his tired jaw. “God, Derek,” he said roughly, pinching at his belly where it curved up from his open shorts. “You look so good like this.”

Derek gasped. “Yeah?”

“Mmm, yes. Fuck, you look so swollen, all that food you got in here...” His hand rounded over Derek’s gut, shaking and wobbling it while jacking him off slowly before building up the speed again. “I can’t believe you ate all that.”

Derek made another sound; Chris glanced up and saw that his eyes were closed, mouth hanging open, a frown on concentration on his face. “Keep going,” he muttered breathlessly, “keep-- _ talking _ .”

Chris felt a shiver run down his spine. He licked his lips, trying to think through the haze in his brain, but really, everything he needed to say was right in front of him.

“You gotta watch yourself, Derek. All that food is starting to make you  _ soft _ .” Chris took Derek’s sharp inhale as encouragement, and kept talking, calling him out on his gluttony. “You don’t get a gut like this from just eating big once. You’ve been doing this a lot, and it  _ shows _ , you know? You’ve been practicing, I can tell. Shoving pie and burgers in here all day long, guzzling beer to build up a big fat beer belly...”

Derek moaned when Chris slapped his gut, then kissed the spot immediately afterwards. His cock was rigid in Chris’s grip, his hips grinding up to his touch, and he looked simply  _ magnificent _ .

“You’re starting to get  _ fat _ , Derek, fuck, it looks  _ so good _ on you. A big, greedy wolf belly.”

He slapped Derek’s gut again, harder this time, and he could feel Derek’s cock pulse in his grip right before shooting his load across his belly, a breathless moan caught in his lips.

Chris hummed with relief as he milked out the last drops of seed from Derek’s cock. Then on a whim, he decided to take care of the clean up with his mouth, wanting to both service and to savor. He felt Derek’s fingers combing up the back of his head, petting his hair as he lapped up the come from his gut. The whole thing felt too intimate to hurry, so he took his time, nosing against Derek’s warm skin as he worshipped that beautiful gut one last time.

He rested to his head against Derek’s belly for a moment when he was done, wanting to prolong the inevitable moment when reality broke this peaceful retreat. It already felt surreal, like a dream, but--here he was, still within touching distance of Derek’s softening cock. Chris scoffed. It really was only weird when you thought about it.

“Well, what’s next?”

Derek’s question roused him; Chris sat up, cracking his neck while thinking his answer through. “What do you mean, what’s next?” He pushed himself up and covered himself, but thought better than to try and button his jeans. The shirt was probably a failed venture too, but he had to keep his hands busy. Otherwise he might find them drifting back to Derek.

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving.”

Chris had only gotten a few of the buttons done when he already had to admit defeat--there was no way to get the shirt to fit appropriately over the swell of his food baby. He chuckled, finally glancing back to Derek. “You’re gonna have to lend me a shirt before I do that.”

Derek made a sound, his expression approving as he looked down over Chris’s gaping shirt. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said after a beat of silence.

“What?”

Derek got up from the swing with less difficulty than his bloated gut should have allowed. He rearranged his clothes before stepping up to Chris; his hand brushed over his side, winding around his waist as Derek moved closer. “You don’t have to leave.” Chris shivered when Derek pressed against him, cupping his cheek with the palm of his hand before kissing him. “Dinner’s done, but that doesn’t mean the night has to be over.” He searched out Chris’s eyes, the smile on his lips so hopeful it made Chris want to stay forever.

“Come inside. I have a bottle of Jack we can open, have a drink and--we’ll see what happens.”

When put like that--or, when presented by a half-naked, gloriously sex up man like  _ Derek _ \--it was hard to find reasons to leave. He wasn’t sober enough to drive yet, anyway, so might as well enjoy the ride. He nodded, smiling, wrapping his arms around Derek to pull him closer, gasping as their guts squished together. “Sure,” he said, “but drinks only. No more food for me.”

Derek raised his brow. “Are you sure? Because there’s still that ice cream...”

How Derek could still be thinking about eating was beyond Chris. “Oh, I remember,” he said, grinning as he pulled his hands back to embrace Derek’s belly. “But like I said before, not all of us have unlimited capacity like you.”

“Hmm, you might surprise yourself.” Derek’s hands came to Chris’s stomach, mirroring his pose as he splayed them over its sides. “With a little bit of practice, you could probably give me a good run.”

Chris choked out a laugh, feeling flushed at the idea of beating Derek in his own game. But no matter how he thought about it--all that  _ practicing _ sounded like a delight on its own.

“Come on, you crazy wolf.” He wrapped his arm back around Derek’s waist and turned back towards the house. “How about you get me that drink first, and… we’ll see what happens.”

Derek grinned, squeezing Chris against his side as they made their way inside. The garden around them had fallen into shadow as the night approached, but it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like a new start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's made it this far and not hated it, thanks for the kudos and comments along the way. This fic has been in the works for almost two years, and it feels nice to finally have an ending for these two fools. I enjoyed writing about them so much. <3 ps. special thank you to Chubstilinski for basically everything.


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